Morwen's stand
by Tilthanial
Summary: It started out as a normal day, until Saruman's horde arrived at her doorstep...please review


Morwen blinked lazily as the early morning sun filtered through the thatched roof. The bright sun promised a great day. She casually slipped out of bed and put on her smock. The old, weathered feel of the leather fabric increased her good mood, prompting one of her great smiles as she looked out at the village.

A groan of horror escaped her lips as she stared in disbelief at the surrounding hills. Hundreds of wildmen and orcs filled the horizon as far as she could see. As she watched, a small band detached from the rest and headed towards her village. The vile stench of the orcs was recognizable from afar.

Hastily she buckled on anything that could serve as armor. After dressing, she took a moment to study herself in the mirror. The armor gave her a ridiculous look, like she had thrown on random bits from separate armor. It didn't matter, she thought. Every scrap helped.

By the time she exited her house, the village guard had assembled. Out of the original twenty soldiers living in the village, only three had been staying home at the moment. The pitiful force looked insignificant before the dozen or so incoming pillagers. Morwen hurried over and joined ranks with the men. Her friend Eithain acknowledged her with a nod and handed her an extra axe. Armed with the small throwing axe, she waited for the storm to break.

The attacking force split into two wings as they advanced on the village. Leading each group was an uruk of frightening proportions, both easily over seven feet tall. They called out harshly to the orcs and wildmen following them, directing their every step. One group outpaced the other, sprinting in for first blood. It was a mistake, a costly mistake.

One of the village guards hurled his spear at the horde and was rewarded by the death cry of an orc. Then the two sides clashed. The three Rohirrim soldiers pounced on a front-runner, bringing the wildman down with a well-placed blow to the skull. Morwen eagerly rushed in, axe swinging wildly. The uruk leading the group leapt at her and bowled her to the ground. Before it could land a killing blow, one of the Rohirrim yanked her out of the way and launched himself at the uruk.

Morwen watched in horror as the man was rent in two by the cleaving blade of the uruk. She scrambled to her feet and joined the remaining soldiers as they fell back to a more defensible position. The other wing of pillagers joined the fray, throwing more weight into their impetus.

One of the Rohirrim snapped off a quick shot with his bow, praying aloud for a hit. The second uruk fell clutching at the white-fletched arrow in its throat. Eithain threw himself into the mob with a broken spear and axe in his hands. He disappeared under a flurry of orcs as Morwen and the last man piled into a small house. The family inside scurried for cover and cried out in fear at the sight of the bloody soldiers.

Morwen caught a quick peek over the orcs' shoulders and glimpsed a pair of Rohirrim riding down on the horde from the rear. She cried out in joy and lashed out as the first wildman entered the house. The archer rushed in under his flailing limbs and impaled him on his sword. The corpse fell out and knocked aside a couple of the other wildmen.

The remaining uruk shoved aside the surviving orcs and men and planted its feet in the door frame. Morwen quailed under its fierce gaze, nervously stepping backwards. Then an arrow sprouted from its shoulder, jolting her back to reality. She ducked under a wild swing and slew the uruk with a frantic thrust in the chest. The archer stepped up beside her and loosed an arrow point-blank into the leering face of an orc.

The remaining wildmen exchanged blows with Morwen and the archer before turning to run away. The last of the two Rohirrim riders brought them down with a pair of throwing axes.

A quite sense of calm descended on the battlefield. Families crept out of their homes and began preparing to flee as Morwen examine the dead bodies. Eithain's mangled body was nearly unrecognizable under the mass of dead bodies. His glazed eyes stared up unflinchingly at Morwen as she wept over her friend's corpse.

One of the Rohirrim cried out in alarm, prompting Morwen to look up. Another band had detached from the large mass. This time it was over forty strong. Morwen scavenged a pair of axes from the dead and gripped them tightly as the horde advanced.


End file.
